Participants:
| Scene Title | Pushernoia |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A star strangled Ferrymen network is one prone to pushing back. Two councilmembers reflect on an upcoming meeting and their own positions with regards to it. One is going, one is not. |
| Date | April 7, 2011 |
The clatter clash of broken cutlery had a few people peeking around the corner.
By now, Joseph's reassured the girl who was clearing up all the plates from breakfast that it's alright, and managed to get a giggle out of her about the irony of shattering about twenty plates through her effort of making sure none went missing, supplies being what they are. She's gone, now, having cut her palm and advised to go and see that tended to, if Megan is available to check the seriousness of the injury, and Joseph's taken a broom from the corner to sweep the small tide of broken white porcelain, bowls of cereal and oatmeal, platters for toast and sliced melon and apple.
He works alone, diligent in his task. Being council doesn't mean you get to skip on menial chores. Somedays, that's exactly what it seems to mean, especially in the case of taking in the dead, but brooming shards of cutlery together is a hell of an easier task than digging holes in the ground, ones to fit people. He's dressed in textures of denim and plaid, his crucifixes dangling together on their chain, and he cautiously picks his booted feet around the pieces so as not to crush them further.
Barbara had missed the commotion. She had, somewhat fittingly, been down in the infirmary when the girl had shown up, again checking on the remaining sick people. But when she arrives up in the dining hall, finding Joseph cleaning up alone is not exactly what she had expected to find. She's dressed as she always is, causlaly, though just a longsleeve shit to go with her jeans instead of a sweatshirt. Others might not be too warn, but when you live for almsot twenty years in Canada, this isn't too bad.
"Need some help?" she inquires as she leans against the arch way entrance with her arms closed. "That girl had a bad gash, but Megan had some gauze left. She'll be fine." In case he was wondering. She steps forward, being careful of where shes teps as she gets closer. She even leans down and picks up a stray piece of porcelain.
The plastic scooper that goes along with the just inadequate broom is offered out for Barbara to drop the shard into, Joseph giving her a wry half-smile. "Just keep an eye out for the bits I missed. My eyes could be better with an updated prescription that don't gimme migraines, but we make do." Sweep, sweep. "Um. Y'can also take a seat, if you like, I was gonna go seeking you out." But he doesn't immediately say why, stepping aside to duck a little to peer beneath the table, and reach the broom beneath it to draw out errant shards.
"How's Abigail holding up? I mean. With respect with what she's got t'work with."
"Oh?" She sounds a bit surprised that she was going to be sought. Maybe she shouldn't be, but she is. She actually moves to sit on the edge of the table, feet down in the seat - to keep her from moving around too much and stepping on any broken pieces. "There's one right there," she remarks motioning to Joseph's side. Arms settle in her lap as she looks around for anymore stray pieces, letting out a bit of a sigh. "She's doing much better. Awake, if you hadn't heard yet." Which in an of itself is a huge improvement. "She's still having trouble doing terribly much, so she'll be down there for a bit longer. But it was nice to be able to sit and talk to her again."
"Look's like dinner prayer'll be thanks for the much needed good news, then."
The shard pointed out to him is collected into collector, Joseph giving even the clean seeming patches of floor a good going over to make sure none of the finer pieces are left undetected, even the ones Barbara's sharper eyes might not pick up. No lamps, no hard rays of sunlight with the thick smoggy cloud cover. "I wanted to um. Ask if you was goin' to this meeting set for tomorrow, the one I heard Eileen's looking to host. I was asked if I'd be going even before I knew it existed. You heard any of that?"
"I think that's a good idea, a dinner prayer. Hopefully… bring us a bit more, and surely boost morale round abouts here."
BUt then there's a change of subject, Barbara studying Joseph for amoment. "I'm glad word of that is getting around. I'm planning on going, yes. I have some thoughts on what I've been hearing about, and Abigail wants me to go so that I can keep her abreast of goings on around here." She quirks an eyebrow at the pastor, looking thoughtful. "Are you thinking of coming? I imagine the more voices there, the better."
He's silent for a bit, the soft sound of scraping bristles and clinking china until the former supersedes the latter and Joseph is just cleaning dust over porcelain. "No," Joseph says, when he realises this is true. "But like Abigail, I'd appreciate someone goin' that mightn't— be as keen as others." Setting the broom aside and picking up the collector, the last of the shards, he rattles it absently as he turns back to look at her, round shoulders curling in a little in a shrug. "Eileen and I have a history of standin' on opposite sides of a thing. I think she'd expect I'd go if I could, fight it down on the front line.
"But I figure I might try and hear what people're sayin' without contamination. Not to say— " He's hasty to add, a hand up in a vague wave. "Heaven forbid that there aren't voices've disagreement for her to hear for herself. But if it's an issue, I'll— handle it on my own time, I think, 'stead o' her room and rules. What do you make of it?"
Babara's fingers lace between each other as she listens to Joseph, giving a slow nod as she taps her foot against the seat it sits in. "I see," is offered simply. "In that case, I don't blame you for not wanting to show up yourself." What does she make of it… "So, I think that's a good idea. I don't mind going on behalf of you and Abigail, at all, if that's what you want."
Leaning forward a bit, she looks off ot the side. "As for what I make of what I've heard… I think Abigail put it best when she said to me that we just don't have the resources to do much about anything at the moment, unfortunately." The faux redhead rolls her shoulders in a bit of a shrug. "I ahven't heard much more besides small talk of what some people want to do, though. So, Lord knows how things will actually go. But I'm at least hoping that folks are at least reasonable about whatever it is they ahve in mind."
"If it was reasonable, I feel like councilmembers would be hearin' about it in a channel that ain't hearsay."
Despite the inherent edge the words hold, Joseph's voice is mild, a little tired. "They've taken a good few swipes at us, an' we've been more or less defensive since November 8, save for the necessities. The vaccines, and the like. I wouldn't be surprised there's a few strong opinions on the matter, and as for resources— no one never said Eileen and her's ain't resourceful." The broom bristles are taken up off the floor, his task done, but Joseph stays still to complete the conversation too.
"I don't mean t'sound paranoid, but Eileen'll bring out the worst in me. Arguably, that includes joining a council for terrorists," is delivered wryly.
"I don't think you sound paranoid," Barbara replies quietly, looking a bit off into the distance. "I think the concerns sound perfectly reasonable. Abigail has her concerns as well." But he's right. They'd be eharing abut this directly if this was any sort of normal event. The hearsay is unsettling, remarkably so. "I think we have a lot to worry about. And I worry what's going to happen if we start reacting to them trying to bait us out like they are. The vaccines are one thing. What I'm expecting from what little I've heard… I don't think it'll do any good for anyone, even if Eileen and the rest of them do have the resources to do what it is they wish to do." She purses her lips a bit, letting out a short sigh. "All I can hope is that people will at least listen to everyone else once things get going."
"You should go, listen, speak your mind," Joseph encourages, with a nod in her direction. The and tell me what happens is meant to be implicit. "Only thing I'd suggest is— don't raise the issue about her bypassin' the council unless she brings it up first. That should be a matter spoken individual like, but, I guess it's worth hearing what she has to say — if only so others'll do the same, like you mention." The broken pieces of plate and bowl shift around in the plastic, and he swings a step back away from the cleared spot.
It's obvious he might say more, but it's also obvious he might want to go to the meeting himself — in both of these two things, Joseph chooses reserve. "I should go find a place to trash this," he says, abruptly conversational. "I'll be up t'see Abby, maybe run into you before tomorrow."
One of Barbara's hands moves to her chin rubbing a bit as she watches Joseph for a moment. "That's the plan, at least for the moment." Go, listen, speak her mind, that is. And just like Abby, she has every intention of sharing things afterwards. After all, it's like she told her - it's best for everyone to be kept abreast of goingson around them.
Which is probably why the unofficialness of this meeting doesn't particularly sit well with her.
With the floor cleaned, the triplet slides her feet back down, both hitting the floor as she moves her butt down into the seat, proper like. "I'll keep that in mind. I do find it… unsettling." Hands slipping into her pockets, she nods. "The fact that it sounds like anyone can come, at least - that's better than the alternative. Thatwould really ahve me worried. Feet shuffle, and Barbara pushes herself upright. "If you go t' see Abby, an' she asks you t' read t' her?" A smirk crosses her face as her gaze settles on Joseph. "I suggest finding a different book than the one she has up there. Just a word of warning."